


you were dead long before father struck you down

by DumbScribbles



Category: DreamSMP, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Brotherly Angst, DreamSMP - Freeform, Dysfunctional Family, Emotional Baggage, Gen, Ghosts, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Memory Loss, Mental Breakdown, Tommy has no way of coping please help him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:26:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27828943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DumbScribbles/pseuds/DumbScribbles
Summary: If you ignore the cracks that grow in the glass for too long, you'll soon find that it only takes one tiny tap to make the whole thing shatter.Tommy goes to visit Ghostbur and it does not go well.
Relationships: Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 3
Kudos: 71





	you were dead long before father struck you down

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, yes, I know we're all drowning in exile angst but I'm still hung up on Ghostbur angst.  
> I wanted to write some angst between Tommy and Ghostbur because it hurt to see that while Ghostbur wrote mostly positive things about everyone else, all he wrote for Tommy was "Bullying Tommy (He's a child)" Yeah that was basically my whole inspiration for this so enjoy.
> 
> Rated T for swearing.

Tommy strolled down the Prime Path, down into the flourishing nation of L'manberg. Through a thin but constant layer of clouds that ever so slightly dampened the mood, the sun was barely visible at its highest point, indicating it was about noon. So far, Tommy hadn't done much with his day (he had woken up late and just decided to go do some strip mining), so he decided it would be nice to go down and check on the place, maybe find someone to hang out with. He was vice president after all.

As he got up onto the new wooden platform, he took a bit longer than usual just to admire the architecture and decorations. A surge of pride caused a smile to grow on his face as he thought of Tubbo, and how well his friend was doing as president. L'manberg looked great, and everyone always seemed to be in a good mood. How fucking cool was it to be able to say that your best friend is the president? Admittedly, it felt strange to be able to live in peace without any immediate and deadly threats putting the sixteen year old in a state of constant vigilance. Okay, maybe it _was_ boring sometimes, but Tommy could say with confidence that the very last thing he wanted was to get into another war. He would much rather prefer having a sometimes-boring life over seeing more death and getting his hands covered in blood and dirt every day. He subconsciously wiped his hands on his jeans, as if he were trying to clean them.

Tommy maneuvered up through the buildings, and he stopped when he reached the hill that had once been occupied by the White House. He tried his best to ignore it, but his eyes were drawn to the crane planted firmly in the ground. He had been hoping to find someone like Tubbo or Big Q to joke around and have fun with, but he couldn't help but be drawn to the tall structure as he remembered who dwelled below.

The blond glanced around in a final hope of finding someone else, but it seemed this section of the nation was conveniently empty today. Hesitantly, Tommy walked into the crane and began sliding down the ladder into the sewer.

Having to go down into the sewer to visit someone sounded like some pretty shitty circumstances, but it was a newly built area, so the worst smells that hit Tommy's nose were dead plants and mud. Over the sound of water flowing down out of the large grate in the wall, he could hear the distorted voice of the person he had planned to see.

"Hand me that, will you?" Echoed across the walls, and after a few more seconds of silence, it was followed by laughter and "Oh, shut up."

 _What the hell?_ was the first thing Tommy's mind could think to say. Was someone else already here? But he hadn't heard another voice… Maybe he shouldn't… Fuck, no, he was already down here. The teen decided it would be best to just see for himself, it might be awkward but someone else already being there would be a better excuse to bail. Tommy dropped off the ladder and hopped over the waterway, raising his hand to knock.

He paused, then knocked twice. Shit. This was a bad idea-

"Hello?" Through the door Tommy heard the voice hurriedly whisper something, and he was pretty sure it ended with "Fine, see you later," before returning to normal volume and calling out, "Come in." Tommy took one last second to calm his nerves before opening the door to visit his dead brother.

Wilb- _Ghostbur_ was hovering by a brewing stand, bits of potion ingredients strewn on his counter. Tommy watched bitterly as he saw the ghost's expression change from curiosity to disappointment. Even so, he still prefered to look at the man's face instead of the giant bloody gash in his stomach. Apparently he didn't mind parading his wound around and reminding everyone of his tragic demise. When he stepped inside, a quick glance around the two-room residence showed Tommy that no one else was here, leaving him in unanswered confusion.

"Oh, it's you, child," Ghostbur observed with his awkwardly raspy and high pitched voice. Tommy scoffed.

"Nice greeting, dickhead." He countered, and immediately regretted his aggressiveness. He was always rude to Wilbur out of habit, but he knew the ghost version of him took things differently. It hadn't even been a week since they 'met', but Tommy knew Ghostbur didn't think of him that fondly. It would hurt a lot less if he had been that way with everyone, but Tommy had seen how well Ghostbur had got along with Tubbo and Phil like nothing had ever changed, while he didn't even try to treat Tommy as a friend, let alone family.

"Why're you here, hm? I'm in the middle of something, if you couldn't tell," the ghost asked coldly, turning back to whatever weird potion he was working on.

"Well, I just… visiting and inspecting shit like a… a landlord! Y'know, 'cause I'm the vice president of this place." Ghostbur picked the bottle from the brewing stand and corked it, shooting Tommy a skeptical look to show that he didn't believe the excuse, but didn't really care to know the truth either. "And, uh, speaking of visitors, have you… had any others today?"

Ghostbur squinted at him, but he did spare a very quick glance at his library room before answering, "Tubbo was over this morning."

Tommy internally cursed his curiosity. He forced his brain to settle on the idea that the ghost had probably just been talking to himself like a crazy person would, because obviously he wasn't going to get the real answer.

"Okay… Well, I've had a pretty uneventful day today. Oh, but yesterday…" Tommy just started to ramble as he shuffled around, looking at shelves and picking up a few of the books laying around. He kept his gaze off Ghostbur, who was saying nothing. Tommy was trying, he really was, but how the hell was he supposed to get through to this guy?

Suddenly, Ghostbur flicked his wrist and a potion landed at Tommy's feet with a crash, glass shattering and splashing his sneakers and the bottom half of his jeans with the grey-ish liquid inside.

"What the fuck?! What's your fuckin' problem?! Oh, jesus…" The blond snapped, stepping back from the murky puddle and mess of glass shards on the floor. The unpleasant fumes from the liquid wafted up into Tommy's nose, and a feeling of fatigue tugged at his body. His limbs felt a lot heavier than they had a second ago.

"Oops," was all Ghostbur had to say, voice almost monotone. He was clearly amused in the boy's suffering, but not in an endearing way. Tommy was already so done with him. He was absolutely ready to punch his brother right in the face, but he had already figured out from experience that he would phase right through the ghost and probably break his fingers on the stone wall behind him.

"Why do you have to be such a big fuckin' prick all the time? I haven't even done anything wrong yet!" he yelled, genuinely at a loss for what to do when punching wasn't an option. Tommy's life, especially these past months, had taught him violence was usually the way to go when problems arose. That, and the fact that his social skills were also pretty shit. Ghostbur was just staring at him, dark colorless irises locked with pale blue ones.

"Can you be any more oblivious? _I don't like you_ ," Ghostbur hissed, exasperated. "You're Tommy, and you're annoying, that's all I remember, and that's all I've experienced in my afterlife. Whatever else you want from me, I don't have it. I'm not Wilbur Soot anymore. _Wilbur Soot is fucking dead_." The ghost's voice rose louder and louder as he spoke, and when he finished it left the room in a suffocating silence.

Tommy felt his throat tighten, and he locked his gaze down onto his wet sneakers. He stood completely still for a few moments, because it suddenly felt like he might die if he moved. He barely had any restraint on his racing mind, but once he was sure he could at least get his legs to work, he whipped around and raced out the door he had come in through, leaping up and latching onto the sewer ladder like an animal. He cursed the stupid weakness potion Ghostbur had thrown on him as he climbed for what felt like an agonizingly long time, gripping the ladder rungs so tightly his knuckles turned pale.

The teen scrambled up to his feet as he reached the top, desperately sprinting out of the crane, back towards the stilt-supported structure he had come though. He barely even registered that he was knocking over chairs and decor as he navigated himself back the way he had come. He only realized it was raining when he nearly slid off the edge of the build, bruising his knees on the hard wooden planks before instantly pushing himself back up and continuing to run with the same reckless speed. Tommy launched himself back down to the ground, and as he braced his legs against the impact, he briefly took note of the familiar figure standing in shock next to him.

"Wh- Tommy? What-" The blond didn't stick around to hear what Tubbo tried to say, because his brain was still screaming at him to keep running, somewhere, anywhere. The Prime Path was worn-down and a lot less slippery than the freshly cut planks he had fallen on earlier, but he was in enough control of his brain now to at least slow down as he turned corners. Rushing up the stairs, Tommy felt the rain start to come down harder, and the cold air seep in through his t-shirt.

At last, Tommy took a final turn into his home, already used to the refurbished entrance, and slammed the door behind him as he got to the back room. He was frozen for one, two, three seconds…

And then Tommy lost it.

He screamed, voice broken and hoarse, viciously running his hands through his hair and pulling so hard he could almost rip out his own scalp. He kicked and punched at the stone walls, oblivious to pain and the blood starting to drip from his scraped knuckles. He babbled incoherent words and unfinished thoughts to himself, pacing around the room like a madman. He was letting his body run on autodrive, and apparently this was what it needed to do. He had no idea how long the outburst lasted, but not before long he curled into a ball and finally acknowledged the hot streaks of tears flowing down his cheeks.

TommyInnit, the brave hero who was always swearing and joking and boasting his own greatness, tucked his face behind his knees and cried his very soul out.

 _Never good enough._ Those words had haunted him for as long as he could remember. For Christ's sake, what the hell was he supposed to do when _Technoblade_ and _Wilbur Soot_ were his older brothers? They always outshone him, looked down on him, acted like they were better than him _because they were._ Techno was always distant, but Wilbur stayed around, never passing up an opportunity to mock his stupid kid brother. Tommy would never admit it, but all he wanted from them was any kind of respect or companionship or even just clarification that when they said they hated him, it was a joke.

So when Wilbur let Tommy (and Tubbo) follow him to the DreamSMP, let him into his little drug van and worked together with him, he didn't even know how to express how good it felt. With his brother and best friend by his side, Tommy helped build a nation, and people were finally starting to remember his name.

He remembered very clearly, the day he gave up his discs for L'manberg. He dangled his legs out over the giant blackstone walls, and Wilbur came and sat down next to him. Very gently, he had placed his hand on his younger brother's shoulder, who continued watching the first sunset over their free nation.

_"Genuinely, Tommy, I'm very proud of you."_

They had sat in comfortable silence, but Tommy would've said something back if he wasn't using all of his concentration to stop himself from crying. Never in his entire life, had he thought he would've heard those words come out of one of his brother's mouths. He felt like he was on top of the world.

But nothing, especially peace, ever lasted very long in the DreamSMP.

_"Then let's be the bad guys. Let's blow that motherfucker to smithereens."_

Tommy didn't know who this man was, but the malicious, insane look in his eyes couldn't have belonged to his brother. But he had kept following him, in hope that he might be able to bring back the Wilbur he knew. He should've known by then. Wilbur Soot was already dead.

Techno came and joined them.

Techno killed Tubbo.

Wilbur blew up their nation.

Phil came and killed Wilbur.

Techno destroyed what the bomb hadn't.

Tommy had willingly let his rage out in those moments, but he had tried his best to keep everything else inside. His fear, his grief, his desperation for any semblance of a family. He had been right there with Wilbur, they had been real brothers for once in their lives, and then it slipped right through Tommy's fingers. All that was left of Wilbur was that stupid fucking ghost, and he hated Tommy just as much, if not more than alive Wilbur had all those years before DreamSMP.

Tommy didn't hear the knock on his door, but he heard it creak open as someone let themselves into his back room. He heard the shuffle of wet shoes being taken off, and seconds later a blanket was draped over him. Slowly, Tommy lifted his head from behind his knees and over the blanket, tucking it around himself. Tubbo dropped down next to him, sitting shoulder to shoulder with the blond. He didn't say anything, didn't even look over at his mess of a best friend, but the aura he had was enough to calm Tommy down.

"Who the fuck needs a family?" Tommy muttered to himself, voice nothing but a hollow rasp. He heard Tubbo sigh quietly. They both already knew Tommy's answer.

_I do._

**Author's Note:**

> PS - Did you figure out who Ghostbur was talking to? :)


End file.
